November 2024

When I speak with him, he’s in his Islington studio prepping for his August release. It’s Friday afternoon and I apologize for eating into precious weekend time. He shrugs it off: he’ll be back in the studio tomorrow morning.

His journey into fashion began with fond memories from the French West Indies, "pressing the pedals for [his] mom and grandma" in the small workhouse where the matriarchs of the family made school uniforms. It wasn’t all sunshines and rainbows, though. There are no idealized tales of childhood spent drawing and daydreaming; as far as a future was concerned, he says, ‘the idea was to get out of there.’

So he did just that, pursuing a degree at medical school for two years, “because that was the only path.” One thing that stands out from the off is a hardened pragmatism. Finally, he saw his chance and moved to Paris to complete a postgraduate in design, before landing a job in the digital design team at Burberry. Juggling various freelance gigs alongside his own brand and studio, he moved to Givenchy to assist with art direction in 2023.

I ask what it was like, stepping into his first big French house. He notes the “ethos around house codes” that struck him immediately.
‘They are the signifier for a house...a visual language.’ In Givenchy’s case, the bow...and chains found scattered throughout their archival pieces.

When asked about his inspirations, phrases like “simple, considerate execution” and “the discipline of making” mark his approval. One look at YRMOS collections and it’s clear that subtlety of expression is key: YRMOS’ house codes, according to him, are “muted tones” and ‘geometric simplicity.’

There’s a lot of value placed on slow fashion: it’s the brands that are “10, 15, 20 years in the making” that he says inspire him. As for contemporary brands he rates right now:

“I like Wales Bonner in England. There’s something about independent designers that are able to tell the story of their vision.”

But his origins are actually in digital design—not the slowest of mediums. What does he think about the impact of tech then, and its inevitable speeding up of things?

“I started to see that storytelling was a big thing for digital.” Digital, for him, is just another question of how we reiterate story over and over—it’s a way to enhance or amplify that story.”

I press a little further, onto AI. But he’s adamant that these technologies are simply misunderstood: “they will develop a new channel. It’s an extension of fashion. It’s not replacing ateliers; it’s a tool that people are trying to figure out.” There’s that pragmatism again.

“It came from the idea that we don’t really know who we are. Some days we feel we belong here or there. But we will always remind ourselves of somebody else.”

There’s a strong emphasis on interconnectivity and cultural heritage, like the brands he looks up to. He talks often about a “constant past” we check and re-check to "help us move forward.” I’m keen to understand what moves him forward though, and why he decided to do his own thing.

“Often we have to put on a mask or a garment that will fit a space, and I want to make sure that people don’t feel this way.”

The idea is to impose as small an opinion as possible on people’s choice, so they can be themselves through it. I love the idea of a brand that is egoless, that allows people to bring themselves to the brand and molds around how they feel comfortable.

The idea of an egoless brand might be something of an oxymoron, but he shrugs off the idea that fashion is inherently political:

“I think you can definitely exist outside of that. If you have conversations with people, if you remove the ego, there is nothing political about it. I have no agenda. I do not intend to get political, or become an activist.”

This is in part because, again, he’s ‘very slow.’ On the slowness of things and taking your time, he mentions transcendence, which can often seem like a platitude in this world. But it’s clear that what he’s looking for is more stripped down:

“Nowadays, people aren’t buying because it’s a big brand. They are buying because they want something by someone who has the same values as them. It’s a way for me to connect with them.”

He notes fondly that “behind the big machine of being a fashion designer, there is still the idea of giving something to somebody, and seeing what they become with it.”

Time is arguably a luxury though. Becoming something with an item of clothing means really wearing it—and there are costs to prioritizing the high-grade materials that permit this. He admits that pricing and accessibility have been hard to navigate.

“It takes us 12 hours to make a shirt. It does become expensive to sustain that; the idea for me is how to build the best product, and sometimes you don’t make a sale because it’s so expensive for the mass market.”

While musing about transparency, he’s quick to point out that a lot of YRMOS’ materials are upcycled:
“Sustainability is a big yes for me. As an industry, we have an impact, so that’s why I’m keen on Made in England.”

A lot of them are still sourced internationally, though. He admits it’s a tough line to tread for an independent:

“It is hard, I will not lie. I try to source fabrics that are certified; traceability is something I learned at Givenchy. Locally sourced is my next goal, but in England, it’s quite difficult.”

Clearly, this delicate balancing act is something he’s become accustomed to. On the topic of staying grounded in the fashion world, he notes:

“I stay connected to the people that surround me. I wouldn’t qualify myself as ‘street,’ but this is where I come from. It’s good to have both ears, because you can hear both sides of the story.”

I bring up streetwear—which he laughs out loud at:

I actually think streetwear is an editorial term. If you meet someone on the street and you say, do you wear streetwear? I think they just wear whatever they feel confident in. Streetwear will always be there, for people just to feel comfortable. It predates what we would consider modern streetwear.

In the vein of trendy, he’s often freelanced for Soho House, a place often criticized for souring the collaborative spirit of the creative industries. I wonder if he feels that collaboration is harder in today’s environment.

When you try to do high end and street, it’s just a marketing move. There is a strong sense of purpose and intention that needs to come first before a collaboration. It takes time. It’s fading because people are not believing in it.

In spite of this, he’s far from unrealistic about the business side of things. One of the lessons he learnt during his time working in digital, he admits wryly, is that ‘everything’s a pitch at the end of the day.’” So—what advice would he pass on to aspiring designers looking to strike their balance?

“You’re only able to make it if you work really hard. There is not a day that I do not produce. A fashion house is not going to bring you any money, for a long time. But you might enjoy the reward of seeing your clothes worn by the best, by people you admire because it’s a piece that talks to them.

Get over yourself when it comes to doubt. Have a pragmatic goal, have a vision of where you see your customers. Forget about the lifestyle you see on Instagram.”

It’s not all blood, sweat, toil, and tears, though. On starting his own brand, he notes with a grin that:
“They are all amazing: your first sale, first artist, first shoot, these things. You really feel everything.”

As we start to wrap, I’m intrigued to know how (or if) he ever relaxes.
“Music and prayers” is his response, suddenly coy when not talking about work.

And when, half-jokingly, I inquire about what someone like him wears to kick back in...

“I actually made some drop-crotch shorts so I can wear them every day. They’re my favorite at the moment.”

It was only going to be something that he’d conceived of and created himself. Or, perhaps, a soft pitch?

YRMOS’ next offering drops with AW pieces early next year.